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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796244">Lovely, and dangerous</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltCephalopod/pseuds/CobaltCephalopod'>CobaltCephalopod</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Knives, Poison, Wooing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:07:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltCephalopod/pseuds/CobaltCephalopod</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Enola wooed Tewksbury on accident and the one time she did it on purpose.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes &amp; Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury, Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>766</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lovely, and dangerous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She’s not even certain what gave her the idea. It might have been the memory of watching him choke, clawing at the back of the assassin in desperation and with all the fighting prowess of a newborn foal. Or maybe it was the rush from solving her first case under her own detective’s intellect and the money had decided to burn a hole in her pocket. Or maybe she just thought of him because the handle had such a pretty filigree curling into delicate leaves and stems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A filigree she found frivolous but the blade was sharp—she’d tested it on her thumb just to be sure—and that was what would count the next time someone tried to kill him. And they would, he was rather annoying that way and she had a feeling he’d be getting in people’s way again. Which was fine by her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she handed it to him, he handed it back after a careful inspection; his gaze lingering on the fronds curling around the pommel just like she’d known it would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks lovely, and dangerous,” he remarked, holding it out to her with that lopsided smile she’d come to think meant he thought he was being clever. When really, he was just being dense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed the knife back towards him with an exasperated sigh. “That’s why I thought it would be good for you. It won’t stand out amidst all your frippery but the next assassin will have a harder time doing you in.” She considered, gaze wandering around the room in search of a reason that would appeal to him. Catching on a vase, she turned back to him with a gleam in her eye. “You can use it to cut your precious flowers in the garden. I saw your hands last week, those gloves were a flimsy excuse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tewksbury spluttered, his eyes unwittingly flitting down to the now-healing scabs on his hands from the thorns. “How’d you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enola scoffed, doffing her flat cap before climbing out the window the way she’d come in. “I’m a detective, Tewks.” She didn’t exactly miss the way he held the knife gingerly cradled in his grip, but she did miss the real reason for such gentleness. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So what’s this?” she asked, flopping onto the couch across from him and tossing him the glass bottle. He fumbled to catch it and she almost reached to grab it out of the air before it dropped but he finally managed to get a hold on it. She was pleased to see the knife tucked into his belt. Perhaps one of these days she should teach him how to fight with it too; he doubtless didn’t know anything about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tewksbury uncorked the bottle and wafted it carefully towards his nose in proper scientific form, Enola noted with surprise. She hadn’t taken him to be too versed in the proper handling of unfamiliar materials, but there had been a reason she’d asked for his expertise for once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s belladonna,” he muttered after a moment, nose wrinkling in that way Enola found reminded her of a rabbit. Perhaps his entire being reminded her of it, the floppy hair, the aforementioned nose, the fascination with flowers and eating them. Really, even his name was the type of overly fancy title that some girls gave their rabbits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought so!” she said, whooping in excitement. She’d been right, this would be enough to convince the police and she could close the case finally. Climbing over the back of the couch, she ruffled his hair as she passed behind him, mind still on the taste of sweet solutions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, don’t you want this back? As evidence?” he asked, rising from where he’d been reading when she interrupted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Turning back, she noted the flattened blooms that fell out of the pages like a shower at a wedding and she picked up one of the crumpled buttercups that fluttered onto the tip of her shoe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already took enough to provide proof.” She held up the flower, proud. “This one’s also poisonous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, holding the bottle close to his chest as if he were still afraid to drop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know what belladonna means then. Something lovely, and dangerous,” she said, gesturing towards him. “As a reward for telling me the answer.” With that she hurried out of the house, through the front door this time, on her way to proclaiming her findings. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sometimes, she wished she hadn’t done as good of a job on his hair. It was too flashy, obvious, far too easy to pick out in a crowd. It had taken her less than a minute to identify his neatly combed head in the crowded market and if she could do it this fast then surely anyone else could too. That was a danger in itself. Incognito was the way to go. How anyone had mistaken him for a flower boy was beyond her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Take her own example, a grimy chimney sweep that no one would get within ten feet of but could never remember the face of at the end of the day under all that soot. It was perfect. Dirty brush balanced on her shoulder, she sidled past him, pretending to look at the herbs in front of her but paying attention to when she could make herself known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tewksbury glanced at her, turned back to the stall and ran a hand through his hair, disturbing the careful swoop and leaving it hanging into his eyes like a mongrel dog’s ears. How he expected to have any peripheral vision like that was beyond her—though it somehow suited him much better now—but she shouldn’t expect him to notice her unless she said something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enola!” he whispered, far too loud. Socking him with her brush as though on accident, she glared. The nincompoop never learned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t just say my name like that! I’m in disguise, or can you not tell that either?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, it’s just been a while.” He pulled himself up straight, although his eyes never left her. “You’re making a real name for yourself. I read all the cases you solve.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, glad that the ash on her face hid it, and remembered why she’d taken all this trouble in the first place. Grabbing him by the lapels, she pulled him close roughly, already shouting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think just cause you got those nice shoes and a smoking jacket, you can tell me what to do? I’ll show you smoking! I know smoke, and how to make it come out of a man’s ears!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her diatribe was broken by vendors and gentlemen separating them, though she was annoyed to see that Tewskbury didn’t look the part at all. Why was he so red and bashful all of a sudden? He was supposed to be angry! Raging at the affront to his station! She clearly needed to teach him how to react undercover too, another lesson plan for another day. But with how much she’d spat in his face during her yelling, she didn’t escape until she’d caught his eye. And winked. Just to let him know it wasn’t real. Honestly, the things she did to make sure he wasn’t hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breaking away from the people holding her back, she scrambled up a drain and disappeared over the rooftop into her current domain. Hopefully, he would be able to understand her message, the one hidden in the seeds she’d slipped into his pocket. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It had quite possibly been up there with the Case of the Vanishing Vixen, with how much she’d wracked her brains to come up with a solution. It shouldn’t be this hard to think up a birthday present for Tewksbury but it had been on her mind for weeks. She’d already exhausted almost all of her ideas, the knife would have been a good one but she’d not thought to save it, only to save him. Flowers might have been an obvious choice but she knew he could have them all, and probably did, and besides, he liked to walk among the bushes and flowers while they were still alive the most. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hauling a fruit tree to his estate had crossed her mind, if only because she was certain no one else would think of that, but the difficulty in even finding one out in the wild that she could steal when they weren’t ripe yet had turned out to be a field of some improvement for her. Maybe he could give her lessons on that instead, she’d trade him for some self-defense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was ridiculous how much dilly-dallying this had all caused her, something she hated to do and didn’t appreciate in others. Make a decision and go with it, the time for action was always now. Or a little later if you still had some clues to put together, but that was for detectives, not gentlemen who couldn’t decide which pastry to eat for breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she had settled on was something she was still questioning, even as she crept through the house avoiding all the servants bustling about in preparation for the ball that evening. Finding him was the easy part. It was too late in the day for him to be watering the plants and when she’d passed the library, the windows had been closed. When she’d first noticed his habit, she’d thought it was so the breeze could fill the room but he’d simply said it was to let other things in as well. She didn’t miss the insinuation and had promptly tossed a pillow at him so she didn’t have to think about how the breeze really wasn’t sufficient in the room for how warm it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The orangery was occupied, as she’d suspected it would be, and blooming in shades of pink and orange and white. She remembered when it had been barren only a few months before, how he’d spent so much time making sure they didn’t freeze or get eaten by pests and here was his reward. Her hands tightened on the handle of the basket like she wanted to choke it, but before she could back out of the room again, she heard his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enola! You’re here!” He came running, dirt staining his hands and face while stray petals that had dropped from the trees got caught in his hair. “I was wondering if my birthday was enough of an occasion for you to pop by.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like quite an occasion will be going on later, you’re not looking like much of one though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to wipe his hands clean, by using his trousers, and only succeeded in smearing both. She remembered that shirt however, the matching pants and the long blue coat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not planning on being here for them either, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tewksbury rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, picking stray leaves off his sleeves instead. “I was thinking of following your example. It’s such a big fuss and I know even if I show up late, no one will notice. They’re here for the champagne and Mother and Uncle, not me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of her own birthdays, before it had been ruined by her mother’s disappearance, and how much of an adventure they’d been, made her finally thrust the basket towards him, saying, “To a better birthday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tewksbury took it with a quizzical look on his face, but eagerly pulled open the hatch on the top. The moment he started beaming, something loosened in Enola. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>agaricus augustus</span>
  </em>
  <span>! They look delicious, oh this one especially looks ravishing.” He held up a particularly large one, the cap big enough to shade his whole hand. “Do you know what these are normally called?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was never one to stop him from gushing, she understood how it was to be excited by things so niche that others might not find them scintillating, but for once she knew the answer precisely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prince.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d opened his mouth to answer his own question but gaped at her instead when she spoke. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afraid of his smile wilting, she continued, “I listen, you know. You told me in the first place.” She stayed still, he was somehow someone who could make her stay still instead of feeling like she just had to move, and watched the thoughts flicker across his face. He was so easy to read sometimes, but this one time she could only hope her deductions were right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remembered.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As another reliving of our first meeting, would you care for me to throw you off a train?” she asked, stepping closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you jump with me, I’ll go anywhere,” he promised, his eyes so earnest she could barely keep her heart from squeezing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s go.” She held out her hand, and he took it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bonus: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted to rage and yell and break the fingers of the assailant grabbing her by the hair. From her vantage point, she could see the lackey twisting Tewskbury’s hand and the flash of the knife as it fell from his grip, only the slightest bit of blood staining the blade. Anger flooded through her at the fear on his face when the man tightened the grip on his throat, a choked gasp all that escaped him as he caught her eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as she wanted to scream, she focused her energy instead on dropping to the ground. Her own attacker, surprised at the sudden change in height, leant forward to keep his grip on her hair and she helped him. Slamming him onto the ground with the added momentum, she scrambled to her feet in a rush, ready to keep him down but the impact with the sturdy dock planks seemed to have been enough to knock him thoroughly out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whirling back toward where Tewks had been dying last, she finally let the fury leave her in one fell yell as she broke into a run. Barreling into the man, she braced herself for another round of grueling punches and was surprised to find him dropping to the ground at her first blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“En...ola,” Tewksbury croaked, swaying in place and finally dropping into her arms. The purplish bruises ringing his neck looked tender but she couldn’t help holding a finger to his pulse just to make sure that he was still with her, still alive, still a nuisance that she couldn’t deal without. When he blinked up at her, she shook her head in apparent exasperation, fighting to make her words work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like this habit you have of almost dying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll...try better...next time,” he said, sitting up slowly. Glancing over at the downed man who had given him the new necklace, he smiled. “It worked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She looked between him and the slack-jawed lackey, before remembering the knife. “You laced it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coughing, he shrugged. “You gave me everything I needed to do it. I might need to up the dosage if I can’t last long enough. But I’ve got the antidote too.” He rooted around in a pocket and held up the small vial, looking raggedly proud. She shook her head, but couldn’t hide her own smile. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always I'm also on <a href="https://squidpro-quo.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if you have any prompts or thoughts</p></blockquote></div></div>
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